


hard to hold back

by girlmarauders



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Ficlet, Hockey Sex Rituals, M/M, Orgasm Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Reverse Edging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 20:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16709911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarauders/pseuds/girlmarauders
Summary: Goals get rewards.





	hard to hold back

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [frecklebombfic ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklebomb/pseuds/frecklebombfic) and [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery) for helping make this exist
> 
> beta'd by [misprint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misprint/pseuds/misprint)

Colin comes into the locker room absolutely buzzing. They're four one up, and the fourth was his, and there's gonna be more - he can just feel it. Gabe grins at him from his stall and a sharp thrill goes through his whole body. He's already so turned on.

Gabe puts his stick down, and pulls off his helmet. Picking his phone up from in his stall, he walks over to loom over Colin, keeping him sitting in his stall, bumping up against his knees. Colin looks up at him, grinning, as he pulls off his jersey and his chest protector. Captain gets to decide what he gets, but he knows he did good, and goals get rewards.

Tyson stomps in from the hallway, pulling his helmet off and ruffling his own hair, sitting down in his stall next to Colin's.

“Lauren says its you and Wilson for interviews,” he says, dropping his gloves in his stall and massaging his wrist. Colin stops smiling. Damnit. He was looking forward to whatever Gabe had planned.

Gabe’s expression doesn't change.

“It's okay, we can be quick,” he says. “Take your pants off Wilson.”

Colin gulps. Gabe taps his wrist.

“Clock is ticking, c'mon,” he says, one eyebrow raised. Colin's hands feel impossibly huge on the laces of his hockey pants, fumbling to get them off and pull them down, kicking to get them off over his skates. Tyson is watching thoughtfully, chewing on his lip, and a couple of the other guys, the ones interested in intermission entertainment, Nate, Mikko, are watching from their stalls.

Colin rolls his UnderArmour down past his thighs, and looks up at Gabe. He has to wait for instructions. Gabe’s made that pretty clear from the outset. Gabe holds up his phone.

“I’m going to time you. Come as fast as you can. It has to be quickly, or you’ll be late to the interview.”

Fuck, that’s a lot. He’s still breathing hard from the game, and he’s turned on but not hard. It’s not like he’s an endurance master, but it usually takes some time for him to get there. Now Gabe’s put him on a deadline. Gabe taps his phone and holds up the screen, the numbers counting up.

“You’re on the clock Wilson,” he says, still leaning over him. Colin pulls in as long of a breath as he can. Fuck, okay. He wraps a hand around his dick, squeezing tightly and jerking himself, already half-hard from thinking about it. Gabe looks down at the timer and back at Colin, down at his hand on his dick.

Mikko’s already got his dick out, and is jerking himself off slowly, like he has all the time in the world, and Colin guesses he does, really, not like him. He flicks his eyes up back to Gabe quickly, his slightly disapproving face looking at the time, and speeds his hand up. He wants to do a good job. He wants Gabe to be _impressed_.

“Fuck,” he says quietly and keeps going. It’s so strange to focus entirely on himself, how he’s feeling, how turned on he is. Usually he’s focusing on someone else, on trying to get them off, and it’s really weird to be trying to speed himself up. He rubs one of his nipples with his spare hand, through his compression shirt, and feels his breath come a little shorter. Nate’s watching from his stall, still in all his gear, his expression interested. It feels like everyone’s looking at him, even though he knows it’s not true, but everyone’s looking at him and watching him be slow, not be fast enough.

“I don’t know man,” Nate says, looking at Gabe. “Can he do it?”

Colin gasps, nearly laughing, feeling a little hysterical. He can’t take them also talking about him.

“He can do it,” Gabe says seriously. Colin’s moving his hand as fast as he can now, feeling the oncoming cramp in his forearm. He wants to come, he wants to come so much, but he’s not there yet, his body isn’t there yet, even though his brain is fully on board. He can hear himself breathing hard, and the helpless sound he makes on each breath out, little gasps of noise. His heart is still racing from his shift, or maybe from this now, but he feels hot and tight all over, and then his whole body clenches, his teeth clack together and his dick jerks in his hand.

He keeps jerking himself through it, come falling into his hand and onto his fingers as he comes.

“Oh fuck,” he says, slumping in his stall, taking in big gulps of air. Gabe taps his phone and smiles, turning the screen to Colin. _2:48_ it reads. It had felt like longer.

“Not bad,” Gabe says teasingly. Colin gasps another deep breath.

“Thanks,” he says. His whole body feels tingly, his body in shock from the speed and force of the orgasm.

“Man,” Tyson says, “Who knew Wilson was the kinky one?”

“Me?” Colin says, still out of breath. “It was Landy!”

Tyson throws a hand towel at him.

“You’ve got 90 seconds before Lauren comes in here and asks why you’re late to the interview,” Tysons says, as Colin wipes at himself. “Better run.”

“Shit,” Colin says, and grabs his pants and jersey. When he stands, the blood suddenly rushes to his head, and he drops his jersey, stumbling into his hockey pants, one hand holding them up. Tyson laughs.

He gets the jersey over his head, in a bit of a scramble, his nerves still singing, like a headrush but more intense. Mikko is still jerking off slowly, his big dick in his even bigger hand, and he wants to stay, he wants to see Mikko get off before they go back out. Gabe claps him on the shoulder.

“Better run,” he says. “I'm right behind you.”

“Crap, yeah,” he said.

He did have to run to the interview, but as he jammed the headset onto his head, he was still thinking about Gabe’s pleased expression when he looked at the final timer.

 

 


End file.
